The woods were alive before dawn.
Orion rose early, breath clouding in the crisp morning air. Not from cold—just the kind of quiet chill that sank into your lungs after a long stretch of stillness. Dew coated every surface, sparkling silver on green leaves and tangled ferns. Tyrunt's snores rumbled from his hollow, rhythmic and guttural. Turtwig stood already, just outside the tarp, head slightly bowed in morning feeding position.
Orion waited.
He didn't speak. Didn't step forward.
He just watched.
This time, Turtwig didn't draw from moss or sun.
He tapped into the thick dew gathered on the leaves.
Feeding, not just from light—but from moisture-rich plantlife. Adaptive. Precise.
That confirmed it: Turtwig didn't need a feeding schedule. He was in sync with the land.
By the time Tyrunt stretched and climbed out of his nest, snorting away clinging dirt from his snout, Orion already had his boots laced and pack secured.
He stood in the center of the ring.
"Today's different."
The Pokémon approached—one stomping, one stepping.
Orion let the silence hang for a moment.
"You're not going to fight me."
Tyrunt tilted his head. Turtwig's eyes narrowed.
"You're fighting together."
He drew a rough triangle in the soil with the butt of his staff.
"Coordination day. You've fought well on your own. But Gym matches? Real trainers? They fight in pairs. You need to know where the other is without looking."
Turtwig blinked once.
Tyrunt growled low, more curious than aggressive.
Orion turned and gestured toward the far side of the clearing.
He'd set up two straw dummies—crudely shaped, laced with twine, but suspended from opposite trees by vines.
"They're targets. But not just targets."
He stepped away.
"They're enemies."
He clapped twice.
"Engage."
Tyrunt bolted forward, eager. He went straight for the right dummy, jaws open, tail coiling for a Dragon Tail sweep.
Turtwig hesitated—only for a second—then sprinted left and opened with a focused Razor Leaf.
Orion watched.
The first dummy dropped instantly—Turtwig's leaves landed three sharp slashes across the chest, severing the vines. The dummy collapsed into the underbrush.
Tyrunt's opponent held longer.
He hit it too hard—Dragon Tail sent it spinning into the tree trunk, but it didn't fall. When he lunged for a follow-up, he collided with the swinging momentum and staggered backward.
Orion whistled.
"Now switch."
Both Pokémon blinked.
Turtwig turned—but Tyrunt was already adjusting. He found a rock near his hind leg, swept it into the air with his tail, and launched it across the clearing.
The rock shattered the second dummy's frame just before Turtwig reached it.
The Grass-type stopped short, chest rising and falling fast.
Orion nodded.
"Too slow to switch. But you adjusted."
They reset.
This time, he moved the dummies farther apart.
Gave the left one a wooden shield. The right, a raised log for height.
"Engage."
Turtwig hit first—straight at the shielded target. He tried Razor Leaf again, but the shield blocked it.
Tyrunt landed on the log. Bounced once. Roared and launched a Rock Throw—but missed.
"Adapt," Orion barked.
Turtwig dropped into a crouch, dug his front claws in, and Bite-charged the dummy directly—dark energy flickering as he cracked the shield frame and splintered the wood.
Tyrunt jumped down from the log.
Too fast.
He collided with Turtwig mid-swing.
They both stumbled.
"Stop."
Both Pokémon froze.
Orion stepped forward.
"That's the point," he said. "You're not just two fighters anymore. You're a team. You don't just move. You move with."
Tyrunt grunted. Turtwig lowered his head slightly, but not in submission.
They weren't angry.
They were thinking.
Good.
The next drills were tighter.
Smaller ring.
Shorter distance.
Two logs. One stone barrier. Both Pokémon behind it.
"Double strike. Target left. Work around each other."
Tyrunt lunged high. Turtwig went low.
Tyrunt drew fire with a loud snarl and a heavy-footed charge.
Turtwig flanked.
Bit clean.
Orion snapped his fingers.
They switched.
Next time, Turtwig ran high, used Razor Leaf to distract.
Tyrunt slipped through the side, tail flicking stones—Rock Throw—striking mid-body.
The balance wasn't perfect.
But it wasn't random anymore.
By the fourth run, they had a rhythm.
Orion stood at the edge, arms crossed, watching something real form in the space between his partners.
Not training.
Tactics.
The wild battle came late.
A Yanma, drawn by the vibration and shouting, dove into the clearing at a speed Orion barely registered.
It zigzagged through the air like a thrown knife, eyes wide, wings shrieking.
"Both of you!" Orion barked. "Contain and pressure!"
Tyrunt roared and opened with Rock Throw—missed. Turtwig fired Razor Leaf—a few cuts grazed the wing.
The Yanma retaliated with Supersonic, disorienting Turtwig instantly.
He staggered.
Tyrunt flanked—but missed again. The bug was too fast.
"Don't solo it!" Orion shouted. "Work together!"
Turtwig blinked through the dizziness—then fired Razor Leaf straight up.
The Yanma dodged.
Right into Tyrunt's second Rock Throw.
Boom.
The insect spiraled out of the air, hit the dirt hard, and didn't rise.
Turtwig stood panting.
Tyrunt approached the downed bug—but didn't bite.
He just waited.
Together, they watched the Yanma groan and flutter away.
Orion exhaled.
They'd done it without him.
He didn't write anything in the journal that night
He didn't need to